


white wolf supercut

by perkalowy (Mikkeneko)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Jaskier is good at his job, Post-Season/Series 01, Short & Sweet, canon-typical Geralt/Yennefer, the gang's all here, the power of song, this is why you don't piss off the bard, triss too because I like her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22960321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikkeneko/pseuds/perkalowy
Summary: "Oh, it'srealismyou're after?" There was a gleam in Jaskier's eye she hadn't seen before, one that worried her somewhat. He scrambled up to sit on the arm of the chair, freeing his arms to pull the lute around from its place on his back. "Well, I can add somerealism.Buckle up, ladies and witchers, because you're about to hear a Jaskier original."---On the run from Nilfgaard and the Brotherhood post-Sodden, our heroes are tired and worn down from everything they've been through. Jaskier offers to lift everyone's spirits... through the power of song.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Triss Merigold, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 94
Kudos: 450





	white wolf supercut

**Author's Note:**

> you know what this fandom doesn't have much of yet? laughs.
> 
> 'canon-typical Geralt/Yennefer' as in, we all know they fucked, the story references that they fucked, but they aren't together at this time, hence the &

  


The road from Sodden was proving a long one.

Triss was worried about Yennefer; she hadn't wanted her to be alone, especially not after what happened during the battle. The two of them had limped off the battlefield supporting each other, and hadn't gone too far on the road before running into the Witcher and his new ward. It was a hell of a coincidence -- but Triss suspected destiny at work drawing their two parties together.

(She wasn't sure where exactly the bard fit in; he'd just sort of invited himself along and Geralt hadn't argued.)

The five of them presented an odd group -- perhaps there was some strength in numbers, some wisdom in staying close together in these dangerous times. Having two sorceresses in the party ensured that their lodgings weren't too uncomfortable at least; they'd somehow secured an empty house for the night, dusty and echoingly cold but at least dry. The rain continued to pour down outside, drumming on the roof tiles, outside but they'd had a chance to warm up and -- mostly -- dry off. 

Still, even if their bodies were dry their spirits were still damp. It had been a long day of hard riding, constantly looking over their shoulder for pursuit -- from the Nilfgaardians, the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, or anyone else that wanted to mix in. Tensions were high between Yennefer, Jaskier, and Geralt; it was clear he hadn't apologized to _either_ of them, and they alternated between cold silences towards him and heated needling towards each other. And Triss -- well, she was worn out from constantly trying to play mediator between her best friend and the bard whom she really would have liked to be friends with. 

The one common ground the adults could agree on was Ciri; she, Yennefer and Jaskier each took turns trying to shower her with attention and concern. But the poor girl still seemed to be spooked from her time on the run, wary of all the attention, and clung exclusively to Geralt. Not the most nurturing of presences, but Triss could understand the feeling of security he offered.

Geralt, of course, was ignoring _everybody_.

"Well!" Jaskier said brightly, clapping his hands together to produce a report that echoed from the rafters. "This is... maudlin and awful! Here we are, all sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves. I know what will help! Shall I play you all a song, to lighten the mood and lift our spirits?"

"That would be the opposite of helping," Geralt rumbled. Jaskier put one hand to his doublet, adopting an expression of righteous indignation.

"Some gratitude, especially when my songs are _perfectly crafted_ to improve your reputation," the bard exclaimed. Triss sighed, and prepared to intervene, again.

"We're all tired," she soothed. Melitele knew _she_ was. "Maybe some other time, Jaskier?"

For a moment Jaskier looked mollified, but of course then Yennefer had to put her own oar in. "Or not," she said. "It's not as though we haven't heard all your dreadful little 'White Wolf' songs a hundred times already."

Jaskier and Yennefer sneered at each other across the table. Geralt ignored them both. Triss sighed.

Then Ciri piped up: "I haven't," she said. Triss looked at her in surprise. The girl had hardly spoken all day and evening, but now she was chewing on a last crust of bread and looking between Geralt and the bard.

Jaskier tore his attention away from Yennefer to attend to Ciri instead. The vitriol seemed to slide off him, giving way to a kindlier smile. "Hm, no, Calanthe had a particular prejudice against White Wolf ballads, didn't she?" he said wryly. "I could play them for you now, princess."

Yennefer rolled her eyes. "Of course, the child with no taste is the only one who wants to hear them."

"I'm not a child!" Ciri said indignantly. "I'm thirteen. And _I_ have _taste."_ She spun the last word out with scorn, reminding Triss that she'd spent the last decade being raised in a castle, unlike most of the rest of them.

Geralt looked up with a forbidding frown, drawn into the conversation despite his best efforts. "You don't need to hear them," he told the girl. "They're all bullshit anyway."

"Excuse you!?" Jaskier demanded, his righteous indignation returning twofold.

"Please, they're complete fabrications," Yennefer said. "All that heroic posing and witty quipping like some knight of legend. Bears about as much resemblance to Geralt as a dressmaker's dummy."

Oh, Yennefer and Geralt were glaring at _each other_ now. That was nice. Triss sighed again. "They're nice songs, Jaskier," she said placatingly. "They just lack a bit of... verisimilitude."

"Oh, it's _realism_ you're after?" There was a gleam in Jaskier's eye she hadn't seen before, one that worried her somewhat. He scrambled up to sit on the arm of the chair, freeing his arms to pull the lute around from its place on his back. "Well, I can add some _verisimilitude._ Buckle up, ladies and witchers, because you're about to hear a Jaskier original."

Geralt growled. "Can you _not --"_ but Ciri interrupted him.

"I want to hear it!" she insisted; she faltered somewhat at Geralt's disapproving glower, then looked to the other adults for backup.

"Yes, please do," Yennefer said unexpectedly, and there was a gleam of malice in her purple eyes. "I want to hear this as well."

Jaskier strummed a few chords; Triss thought she recognized the opening notes of 'Toss a Coin' until the tune modulated into something unfamiliar. He opened his mouth and began to sing, and Triss had to admit, he really did have a very good voice.

"I chanced a traveler on the road  
I followed after as he rode  
Into danger, toil and strife  
And saw the Witcher's lonely life"

Triss (and Ciri, she noticed) looked involuntarily over at Geralt; he looked as though he were paying no attention whatsoever to the proceedings, except for the twitch of the muscles of his jaw which betrayed him. Jaskier continued.

"And he spoke the words that Witchers speak  
And he did the deeds they do  
And I swear upon my hands and tongue  
Every word of this is true..."

Jaskier held the last word on a long note, letting it die off into silence -- then started strumming again, an energetic tune twice as fast as before. He played a long riff of notes -- _twang twang-a-lang-lang twang twang-a-lang-lang twang-twiddle-lang-lang twang twang --_ before slapping his hands across the strings to silence the notes and, in the silence, letting out a deep emphatic _"Hmm."_

A bubble of laughter burst out of Triss despite herself; she recognized both that _hmm_ and the scowl that went with it. Jaskier repeated the string of musical notes, and once again at the end of the bar silenced the music to let out an interjection. "Mmph." More notes, rising to a questioning trill at the end. "Hmm?" Loud, energetic, and enthusiastic the music repeated itself, this time ending with Jaskier shouting, **_"Fuck!"_ **

There were faces to go with the words, too -- contorted scowls, exaggerated frowns, the just-so tilt of the head -- though the contrast between Jaskier's open, honest features and Geralt's iron jaw couldn't be greater, the expressions he was pulling were spot-on Geralt. The words, too -- Jaskier couldn't quite reach the deep bass rumble that characterized Geralt's voice, but the intonation and inflection were _perfect._

Triss couldn't stop giggling. Nor was she the only one; Ciri had her hands up to her mouth, eyes dancing, while Yennefer tossed her head back and _cackled._ Jaskier dove into a second verse, louder and livelier than ever, the music accompanied by a chorus of "hmms," "fucks," and one particularly enthusiastic _"Hrrrngh!"_ that had him standing up on the chair briefly before dropping back down. Even before he started in on the second chorus, Triss' ribs hurt from laughing so hard.

Geralt, Triss noticed, had let his head sink down on the table between his elbows, and wasn't looking up.

At last Jaskier concluded a verse with a sweeping cascade of notes and dropped back into his seat. He was out of breath, blood high in his cheeks and blue eyes dancing, as he grinned at the three ladies. "Well, how was that for accuracy?" he said.

"Spot- _on,"_ Yennefer drawled.

"That was great!" Ciri cheered, surging up in her seat to clap wildly. "You sound just like him! Play again!"

"I would, Princess, but I'd need my fine muse to supply me with more material first," Jaskier said, smirking over at Geralt. 

"Oh! How's this?" Triss said, sitting forward in her chair and clearing her throat. In her best imitation of Geralt's voice -- which was nowhere near as accurate as Jaskier's -- she growled, " _I believe in the sword!"_

Geralt raised his head off the table just enough to growl out, "I have _never_ said that, _ever."_

"You _have,"_ Triss shot back. Sure, he was half-dead and delirious at the time, but he definitely did say it.

"Very good, my lady!" Jaskier swept her a brief bow over his instrument, and set his hands back on the fretboard again. The music started up again, Jaskier singing the tune of the opening chorus but with new words: "Hmm, la la something, lorem ipsum dragon's hoard, and the Witcher turned his back and said -- " 

"Oh! How about this?" Ciri interrupted eagerly. She scrunched up her face in a pouty imitation of Geralt's usual glower and said, _"Don't touch that!"_

Jaskier grinned at her, already incorporating it into the verse. _Twang, twaddle-lang-lang, twang twang-twang twang,_ **"Don't touch that!"**

It really was uncanny how well he could reproduce Geralt's growl, even going only by Ciri's imperfect imitation. Triss supposed that was the sort of thing bards learned to do, or maybe it was just Jaskier. Or was that an admonition Jaskier had heard often enough, himself?

"I've got one," Yennefer said, joining into the fun unexpectedly. She tipped her head back, let her eyes roll upwards, and let out a primal, guttural, _groan._

Triss felt her face flood with heat. "Where did you hear him say _that?"_ she exclaimed.

Yennefer smirked at her, returning to her previous seated position. "Where do you _think?"_

 _"Gross!"_ Ciri yelled, dispelling any of Triss' hopes that she was too young to catch the innuendo.

" _Oh,_ if that's what we're doing, classic Geralt sounds of _passion_ ," Jaskier said, an odd gleam in his eye as he looked over at Yennefer and played a few bars. "I've got a few --"

"No no no!" Ciri interrupted him. "That's my _dad!_ I don't want to hear any more weird sex noises!"

The conversation devolved into a melee of shouting and laughter, as the sorceresses and the princess took turns yelling suggestions for classic Geralt noises. Jaskier started a new verse, pulling all of them into singing or at least humming along, shouting enthusiastically when they got to the " _hmm!"_ parts.

When at last the noise died down, Triss felt exhausted and sore from laughing -- but it was a better kind of tired than she'd felt at the beginning of the night. For the first time since the singing had started, she began to feel a bit of actual concern for Geralt: he hadn't raised his head from the table since the music had started.

"Geralt?" she asked, concern coloring her voice as she moved over to touch his arm. To her alarm, his shoulder was actually _shaking --_ surely all the singing and ribbing couldn't have _upset_ him, could it?

"Leave him, he'll be fine," Yennefer said, but Ciri leaned in on his other side, her wide blue eyes holding an anxious expression.

"Are you okay?" she asked timidly, and Geralt's shoulders jerked, and at last he lifted himself from the table, tossing his head like an agitated horse.

Laughing. Triss didn't think she'd _ever_ seen Geralt laughing before, one hand bunched at his mouth as though he could hold back the fits of chortling by sheer force; the other fist slammed into the table. His mouth twisted despite his best efforts to keep it straight, his eyes squeezed shut with the force of it, and he growled between the bursts of laughter: "Jaskier, I'm _gonna fucking_ **_kill you!"_ **

"Oh! New verse!" Jaskier said delightedly; he strummed a chord on his lute in the exact same moment he pushed himself back from the table, chair gliding smoothly away from Geralt's abrupt lunge across the table towards him. The movement spoke of long, long practice in evading such grabs, and as Jaskier stood up and began to strut around the chair as he played, Geralt's head thudded back to the table again.

It was a long road from Sodden, but with song and good company, she was glad to share it with them.

  


* * *

  


~end.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes a family can be a witch and her witch best friend and her ex-boyfriend and his boyfriend and their adopted princess daughter.
> 
> I attempted to explain this story concept to my fiance, who considered it for a moment before saying "so basically, Jaskier YoutubePoops Geralt?" and i can't think of a better way to summarize it than that


End file.
